Desert Spell
by Djali is Queen
Summary: Ceaseless adventures have finally led the evil-fighting travelers into the city of Veldt for a short reprive. After a lazy morning, Rhen takes a walk, losing herself to her thoughts. Lars/Rhen/Dameon


**NOTE: **Here is my next contribution to _Aveyond_ fanfiction across the internet. Another Rhen/Lars, because they are my favorite unmatched pair in all of Aveyond, but also a little bit of Rhen/Dameon, because he does win her in two of the four endings. Fragments! I think I prefer using Lars as a medium. And this one is a little bit more rambling. Hm... Oh! And really quick, I embellished a little on Elini's house. It's pretty, but not very practical in the game.

Have I mentioned that I'm smitten? That might have some bearing on the story. Le sigh~

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Having traveled for several days through unrelenting heat and despicable darkness, the small party of travelers made their camp in the long, winding corridors of Elini's palace home. The lady warrior had sworn on the lives of her first and second husband—both of whom laughed and jostled each other at their mention—that her residence was one of modest keepings compared to some of the noble women of Veldt, but Rhen found it hard to believe. The clean coated walls with their high, emblazoned arches; the swaying palms and exotic flora that littered the floor like rampant insects and the statues that danced between them, lovers at play; the polished limestone and granite floors with their intricate designs that were kept sparkling by a handsome staff of young men who could not afford to be one of Elini's husbands; the imperial windows that kissed sunshine and held it close with their long, billowing arms of silk; the shinning pool where Elini said she would cool off with her men on the hottest days; even the graceful bundles of dried flowers that worked to keep her manor as fresh as the breeze that licked the hands of the windows; Elini's five beds and vast array of furniture that were carved mostly of light beachwood, but the most lavish of her treasures were fine sets of ivory, and her favorite bed was of a deep, glistening wood that Elini had brought back with her from one of her expeditions to find a husband. 'I never found a husband,' she had joked, 'but I did bring back something to catch them.' With all of this luxury, Elini could not be one of the simple ladies of Veldt.

Rhen reflected upon this as she lay on the polished floor, surrounded by a mountain of pillows. Under her head was a pair of strong legs, draped in the well worn cotton robes of a priest. Through one set of her long, curling lashes she could see the priest's strong chin and the well kempt beard that hung languidly from it. Twitching at her side was a playful paw that longer to reach up and pull the man down to her, but she ignored it, instead waving away the young man Elini had sent to cool them with palms.

As the boy bowed and made his way swiftly through one servant's of the almost hidden doors a smile cracked across the sun dried lips of the priest. He turned his long, straight nose down at her, two melting-honey eyes gazing upon her through his fixed hair. 'I thought we would never be alone.' His voice slipped out of him as tender as the desert breeze. One of his purified fingers traced the Rhen's jaw, lingering thoughtfully at the corner of her lip. The young swordsinger smiled at the priest before reaching up to take his hand from her mouth, letting it fall, stonelike, into his moss green lap.

'You sound so pious, Dameon,' Rhen joked, her voice floating from her on the warm desert air. The bronzed priest smiled lovingly upon her, pulling his hand in hers off his lap before letting it ripple once more against his green robes.

Having just returned from the demon infested caves to the south-east, the lazy afternoon suited them both. Lying on Elini's blinding floors with only each other as company made quite a pleasant change. Galahad was not off on a tirade about his malicious wife, Elini was not trying to court John, Lars was not making snide remarks at the young lovers: as far as they were concerned, it was the most pleasant day the two had had in a many wearisome months.

Actually, their relaxation had come without warning; Elini and her three husbands had saddled up that morning, intent on finding something in one of the caves, something one of the three had lost on a short voyage. All of them were needed of course. Rhen had wondered if that was what the party was really up to, for she was certain it was not shame in the youngest's eyes, but anticipation; the vampiress had set off into the desert, intent on watching the sun all day. Rather romantic, Rhen had said, but the crafty vampire had simply bared her friendly fangs and dashed off; Galahad had taken the opportunity to revel in his freedom… at least until, from some distance, came obnoxious shouting and cursing the 'demon spawn.' Poor Galahad had been dragged off with his wife to watch the sun; John had said his dragon needed tending to; Lars… Rhen didn't know what had become of him, but because there was no petty bickering and incessant taunting she would not complain. She imagined he was talking with the Alchemist, who had offered him a most tantalizing lesson in magic in exchange for his afternoon.

As her scattered thoughts came once more to their solitude Rhen lifted her head from her lover's lap and pushed herself up to meet his eyes. For a moment she simply stared into them taken in by their liquid appearance, shifting gracefully to stares of wonder to gazes of intense passion, until a beam of light flickered through one of the windows and blinded her through his gold band.

'Oh,' she exclaimed, squinting and turning her head away from him. A low chuckle reached her ears before a soft hand took her chin and turned her face back to him.

'Are you blind, my love?' asked the priest, tilting his head back as though to look at her more precisely. Rhen's lips pressed into a smile in response. Closing her eyes she whispered, 'It's so nice to be here with you, Dameon. It's so peaceful.'

'I couldn't agree more,' breathed the minion of the sun, leaning in toward her. Rhen's eyes flickered open just in time to see his face closing in on hers. The warm roughness of his lips upon her made her toes curl. She leaned limply against his body, stabilizing herself by putting her hand on the rolls of fabric between his legs. His hand grazed her planted wrist, traveling smoothly along her arm until it reached her neck, nuzzling there like a dove hiding from a storm. Rhen pulled away from his chapped lips, gazing comfortably into his eyes; whenever she was with Dameon she felt so at peace, so calm. Her unfettered hand rose to hold onto the arm that dangled from her neck. Smiling softly Rhen leaned in once more.

'Am I interrupting something?'

And then the dream was gone. The air was too hot, the floor was slick with sweat and Dameon's hand upon her shoulder seemed to hold all the weight of the earth at that point. As quickly as a lark Rhen was pulled away from her love, glaring down at the snarky sorcerer smirking in the large capped doors that peered with timid loftiness at the awkward pair.

'Lars,' ground the voice of the agitated priest, 'You're back?'

'In good time too, it seems.' His squinty muddy-grass flickered from Rhen leaning on her palms to the reclining priest, who had not moved when Lars had appeared. Landing back on Rhen, a certain reprimand lingering in his noble features he said, 'And it seems I came just in time. Taking advantage of a pressured woman, healer? How moral of you.'

Although his eyes were hard the Sun Priest did not bother to give them magician mind. Instead he leaned forward, placing his hand gently atop Rhen's and asking her if she would prefer to leave. Surely they could find reprieve in one of Elini's many rooms. The lady warrior looked into his eyes for a long moment, searching for what had been there only moments ago.

'It's alright, Dameon,' she said at last, slipping her hand from under his. She unfolded her body, rising up to leer at the irksome wizard, 'I think I'll go for a walk instead.'

'Would you like to go alone?' he queried, sensing the change in her demeanor. He too rose from the mountainous pillows and slick floor, straightening his clothes.

'I think I will.'

'Would you like anything before you go?'

'No, I'm quite alright, Dameon.' She turned away from the caster, focusing on the movement of his golden eyes. 'But thank you,' she murmured as she left an innocent parting gift upon his sun kissed lips. The priest smiled at the gesture before his eyes shifted to the interloper and his face melted into contempt. 'Lars,' sneered the holy man, 'What will you be doing with your day?'

Smirking with blatant malice the warlock joked about something or other, but at that point Rhen was already making her way around him. 'Excuse me Lars,' she hummed as she stepped to his left, swiftly making her way down the road. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flick of his well groomed hair and the snap of his head before she was too far to see him in her peripherals. But Lars wasn't the object of her thoughts, so, when he passed from her sight, he passed from her mind.

Long lolling stretches of cerulean sky smiled down upon her as she rounded the corner and began down the stone stairs that lead to Elini's mansion on the hilltop. It was steep climb and, although she had traveled far and lived atop a mountain herself, it made her uncomfortable. But the rambling stairs cut into the jagged mountain side echoed with laughter as small rocks tumbled under her feet. Her boot heel scuffed against the rocky faces that stared with their wide, wise faces, countless ancestors watching her descend...

Once she had reached the bottom of the intimidating stairwell Rhen dwelled beneath the shady silhouette of one of the sister palms behind the cartographer's shop. She leaned her heavy wrists against the scales of the tree, feeling the back of her arms brush against the bark. As soon as Rhen and her fellows had arrived on the Southern Isle she had noticed the oppressive heat, but she done nothing to cool herself. Her fingers itched with sweat inside their gauntlets and she longed to slip the leather off and feel the leather beneath her fingers. Searching with jerky twitches, her eyes sought out the peeking towers of Elini's home. Surely, she thought, Elini would have something lighter and less binding than Rhen's armour. Maybe something like the clothes she had worn in her childhood; something light and flowing, colourful yet modest, something breathable. She reminisced until the heat caught hold of her once more, dragging her back from her cool mountain tops and the handsome face of young Danny.

An angry voice rang out from the other side of the tree, and, to Rhen's great delight, she saw the agitated lines of Galahad rushing toward her. The purple lady stepped from her place in the light shade, stopping the knight in his path.

'Rhen?' he exclaimed, surprise pulling his angst into something nearing unpleasant. The soldier's head whipped around with paranoid speed. 'What are you doing out? I thought you would be with the priest.' His words snapped out of him. He was obviously in a hurry again.

'Well, I was,' said the warrior, tugging at her gauntlet. 'But I decided to go for a walk. Galahad, if you're returning to Elini's manor, would you mind taking my gauntlets? It's a little hot for the metal.'

The knight waved his hand, dismissively agreeing to her request. Her fingers grabbed with childlike tenacity at the tips of her gloved gauntlets, and soon she was passing them off to the flighty knight. A call sounded from behind him just as she placed her second glove in his palm, and without a word of farewell he left her, standing lighter in the sunlight.

One deep breath welled in her chest as Tei'jal zipped past her, bidding her a lovely day in the sun. Rhen let the vampress pass without a second thought, and was off once more down the hill side, burdened only with thoughts of her lonesome lover sulking in the clouds above.

'Silly man,' she muttered, taking her fresh hand to her lips with a regressive giggle, 'Always so serious.'

And it was very true. The sun worshiper was always so strenuous when he was with everyone, though alone with her he was a terrible romantic, sighing and brushing her hair from her face. Dameon was a good man, the man that she loved, but she found herself wishing that he got on better with her friends. He was not so new to them that he ought to have been distant, but there was always a bit of him that remained reserved, even from her, preventing him from truly being accepted, or fully trusted, by any of her friends.

Her naked hands brushed against her thigh, scraping it lightly with her chopped nails. The general unease around Dameon was unsettling to say the least. If there was a gap in trust when the group was on repose, then what of battle? There was normally little trouble with that, for all Dameon had to do was stay behind his fellows, away from blood and action, and, if the need arose, flew to the aide of the injured. There was little trust in that, for Lars too could heal, and each member carried their own draughts and potions just in case. Dameon had little real role, except to explain this and that, and to help guide the adventurers through his brother and sister temples. And of course, to support Rhen and love her. It sounded selfish, Rhen realized as she passed the looming, onion-capped tower that was closest to the next set of stone steps, but in reality, Dameon seemed to be there for her. Rhen had never asked anyone else what they thought of him, though she had tried to convince Elini that the lithe man would make quite a fine husband, though he was not of the same build as, Rhen had recently discovered, Elini's three husbands were. The truth was Dameon had joined their troop without any correlation between the party members. Rhen felt rather foolish for not having realized it earlier.

Clackering at her side was Rhen's sword. Her hand instinctively moved to the hilt, fingering the metal of the mythical blade as though she were preparing to fight off a foe.

Just then a strong wind blew through the valley, rustling the fabric tents and rising a thick blanket of liquid heat a foot or two from the ground before it settled. A bush rustled to her left, catching her eye and reminding her of Lars. Although no one openly trusted Dameon, the stuck-up boy who had once tormented her and made her life hell was in everyone's good opinion: Elini, whose opinion Rhen valued quite highly, thought him marriageable, though to another woman; Galahad thought him tolerable, though it was hard to way with the knight, for he was always a bit distracted; Tei'jal had threatened many times to kill him, and keep him as a pet around her manor; Pirate John and Lars were at constant ends, but always rather playfully, like two pups, for young Lars needed some man to live youth with him; Marge was too angry to notice much of anything; even Dameon, who would openly admit to his dislike for the young sorcerer, admired his ambition and attitude, and, though he thought him rather annoying, found him to be a reliable asset to their team. Thinking upon it, although Lars' general personality came off as strong and quarrelsome, Lars was dependable and powerful enough to have won friends among the madness of their party.

Rhen kicked steel toe into the ground as she came off the final set of stairs. Pulling her head upwards she looked around the flat desert market, taking in the few sights that Veldt had to offer. Because each woman in the mountain town had an abundance of husbands who conquered and sustained the women, there was little need for a lower class to work for them. The merchants, the noble ladies, their husbands and their staff, and the empress made the up the town's population, so the fresh market air carried not the rushing babble of voices but the desert's enchanting lullaby. Rhen turned her face to the wind.

Countless months had fallen into unnamed years, Rhen realized as the wind rapped at her face. She had grown stronger, strong enough to have a chance of beating Arihman. Swaddling one of her hands in the short folds of her skirt she began to move. The breeze slipped beneath her skin, cooling her though the sun leered upon the earth with ferocity unmatched. Yes, she had grown, she thought, and not all of it was a measure of strength or physical transformation, but she had wizened with each experience brought upon her. Her entrance into the world as a slave had had many effects upon her, but there were many events that contributed to her maturation.

But it was not she alone who had become more sensible. Lars had fallen from a childishly cruel husk not long after he had left his home. He did not shed the skin entirely, but it had taken him months to look at Rhen with some semblance of respect, so Rhen could only hope that Lars would one day be a complete adult. No, she corrected herself, she rather enjoyed his wit once it had stopped abusing her, and without his banter, how would she have made it through the terribly sights that she had seen? The innocence that had been swept away…

She was heading toward the library, she realized, and slowed her pace, hoping to prolong her visit as long as possible. The somber melody of the desert was calming.

Atop the hill she could just make out the small, darting figure of Lars, his long purple robes billowing behind him. The small peachy spot that was his face turned toward her, and she could just distinguish his eyes catching her form in the empty road, though she wasn't quite certain of it. Soon he was dashing away from the cliff's edge, out of Rhen sight for the moment.

Much like Rhen, Lars had changed in more than one way. He had gone from a rather haughty looking boy, tawny and pale, to an imperial man of intimidating stature, looming godlike above many, his bronzed face sneering down upon a lesser being. His body was stronger now, though still thin, and although he had always been a handsome boy, he had morphed into a graceful creature with defined lines that showed best his beauty. His walk had become less of a strut and more of a royal stride, purposeful and strong. Rhen let her skirt go. Best of all, she thought to herself, her eyes losing sight of the coppery sands, the space in the center of his eyes that had once been distant and cold had become warm and tender and held more knowledge than the imperious boy of his childhood. Oh yes, Rhen knew that Lars had changed, but she didn't understand why it made her so… so much like the sun had shrunk, falling into her chest where her heart had once been, and warming her, slowly but surely, from the inside out.

When a voice called out to her, shaking like a little boat on the sea, she turned to face it. Surprise speckled her features as she realized that Lars had fallen from his cliff in quite the hurry to catch up with her. As he stepped off the final staircase that she herself had just come from, he shouted, 'Rhen! Can I walk with you?!'

Still rather stunned that the sorcerer who had just captured her imagination would enter into reality she nodded dumbly, trying to smile at the bobbing man just a breath away. He was at her side in seconds, smirking casually at her.

'You priest was trying to kill me,' he sneered, lifting his chin toward the skyline.

'Well, I can't blame him,' Rhen began, stumbling through her rhetoric, searching for the appropriate insult to give him back. 'Poor Dameon has to see that awful face of your every day. It's a wonder your mother didn't drown you when she had the chance.'

The magician smiled at her playfully, happy to see that she was not giving him the cold shoulder. 'You're so different when you're not around Dameon,' Lars noted, giving his thoughts life. 'I like you more like this.'

'I'm no different now than I ever am,' said the warrior, trying to protect herself. She felt her fingers twitching for her sword. 'I act upon my mind, Lars, but never to unnaturally. I'm always myself.'

They came upon the small oasis that separated the main bit of town from the confines of the library, so the words that slipped from Lars' lips were somewhat distorted by the thunder of the waterfall. Rhen turned her face to him, judging from his face what she ought to say. There was an aggravation dwelling on his handsome features, and she felt her shoulders pull together.

'What was that?' she managed through the water.

'Nothing, Rhen. Are we going to the library then?'

They stopped in the middle of the road, Lars watching her and Rhen staring at the entrance to the library. They would go, she decided, and spend a quiet afternoon in a place where they could not speak, keeping to themselves. Rhen would look for helpful clues and Lars would scan through magic books that might help him further his immense power. Maybe they would speak a little, but Rhen would avoid it as much as possible, try to lose herself to the history of evil. She had learned enough today, and was not sure she could handle much more.

So she nodded. 'I wanted to do a little bit of research. Are you coming?'

'I thought that was evident.'

And then they entered into the damp coolness of the library, seeking knowledge that they had already discovered.


End file.
